Happy Birthday, Hermione
by Winter Solstice1
Summary: Severus Snape has a new apprentice and he isn't very happy about it. Lighthearted SSHG. Not HBP compliant. No spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thought I'd try something a bit different, for light relief. This is not HBP compliant, so quite AU although I'll try to keep the characters canon up to a point. Updates will be weekly/twice weekly and complete this will probably be 8-10 chapters long. Please drop me a review and let me know what you think.

I don't own Harry Potter, am making no money from this and no infringement is intended.

Happy Birthday, Hermione

Chapter One: The Request

_He who is ashamed of asking is ashamed of learning _– Danish Proverb.

"You cannot be serious, Miss Granger?" Professor Severus Snape's pale face betrayed none of the incredulity that his voice accomplished so well, and he settled instead upon a faint sneer. Hermione Granger shifted awkwardly in her seat in front of his desk, looking everywhere but at her professor before finally turning slightly wounded eyes upon his. She had nervously knocked upon his office door and walked in not two minutes previously. After struggling with pointless niceties she had abruptly sat herself on the hard wooden chair before him and made her outrageous request with an astonishing amount of aplomb.

"Of course I'm serious, sir," her voice held a curious mixture of defiance and deference, as though she could not decide which would be most effective, and she was rewarded with a frown which replaced the sneer. Snape leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin.

"Tell me then, Miss Granger, why you wish to pursue such a course…and with me of all people?" He invited fractiously, not unaware that he was the most unapproachable Professor that Hogwarts had to offer.

"Well, sir, I've always thought that learning from the finest master in any particular field was the best way to become excellent oneself…" her expression was thoughtful, but it was clear that she had thought up that particular answer hours, or perhaps days, earlier. Snape was dismayed that Granger would underestimate him so spectacularly.

"Flattery, Miss Granger," he told her lazily, "will get you nowhere."

"But _sir_," she protested, "It's not meant to be flattery!"

"Watch your tone, Miss Granger. It would be tragic to lose house points so very close to your graduation, would it not? An affront to your status as Head Girl, hmm?"

"Yes sir," she looked slightly dismayed. "What I meant is that you are considered one of the best Potions Masters in Europe…at least, according to the potions journals in the library and I've sent owls to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well and _their _Potions Professors agree too."

Snape unsteepled his hands and folded his arms across his chest.

"How very like you, Miss Granger, to research so thoroughly." He made it sound like an insult and the young woman in front of him flinched slightly. "I presume that you would also know then that I have never taken an apprentice in nearly twenty years of teaching?"

"Yes sir."

"Why would I make an exception for you?"

In the half-light of his office, he saw her eyes flash.

"Because in those twenty years you've never had a candidate as capable as me, Professor." She betrayed no false modesty, and there was no conceit in her voice.

"Miss Granger, it is not enough that you merely be capable. Potion making is such a fine art that it requires standards which are nothing short of impeccable."

"Yes."

"And are yours?"

She bristled a little, but then seemed to steel herself against a foolish course of action that would lose her house points.

"I believe that with the right training, Professor Snape, that they would be."

"You do not consider yourself perfect, Miss Granger? I confess myself surprised," he told her silkily.

"Of course not!" She exclaimed, shaking her head so vehemently that large amounts of frizzy brown hair escaped from the ponytail tied at the base of her neck. Impatiently tucking the hair behind her ears, she flashed her eyes at him again. "Nobody is perfect, sir. We all make mistakes once in a while."

"Indeed? Of course you know that a mistake in potions making can have very serious consequences? It would be wrong for me to ask for anything less than complete dedication when considering an apprentice."

"Yes sir. I believe that my school record shows that kind of dedication across all of the subjects that I've taken."

He snickered softly.

"Even Divination?"

She reddened.

"With respect, sir…"

"Never mind, Miss Granger," he waved her protest away. "As it happens, my opinions on that subject are much the same as your own. Divination is innate to individual witches and wizards. Potion making is not. Tell me why you want to undertake an apprenticeship in this subject. Your grades are as high in Transfiguration and Charms as they are in Potions, are they not? I'm sure Professors McGonagall and Flitwick would accept you in an instant, should you approach _them_."

"I want to be an experimental potions brewer, sir."

"But why?" He could not remember the last time he had had such a long conversation with a student, and especially not a student as irritating as Hermione Granger. Her apparent refusal to give him a straight answer for anything was a trait that he considered almost Slytherin in its evasiveness.

"It's mostly such an unexplored field, Professor!" She was a least beginning to display some enthusiasm. "There are so many potential things…good things, that potions could do that simply haven't been explored or discovered yet. I can't even begin with experimental potions until I'm well versed in the ones that already exist!"

"Do you have any idea how hard a potions apprenticeship is, Miss Granger?" Snape leaned forward over his desk. "You would have to commit yourself to four years of working with me for hours at a time almost every day. I am not a pleasant man and I do not take kindly to excuses or for that matter, failure. You would be quartered here, in the dungeons and can expect no pay, no benefits and certainly no favouritism." He leaned back again, observing her stony expression. "Take my advice, Miss Granger. Find yourself an excellent wizarding university and learn your higher education there."

There was a long silence, during which her facial expression did not change.

"Are you telling me 'no'?" She finally asked him.

"I am telling you, against my better judgement, that you would be better off elsewhere. I could not refuse someone of your talents the opportunity of an apprenticeship but you would be a fool to take it, Miss Granger."

The scraping of her chair against the flagstones was both loud and abrupt. Satisfied that he had said enough, Severus Snape smiled nastily up at her but recoiled slightly at her expression of determination.

"Good luck, Miss Granger." He sneered at her.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. I'll be needing it. When do I begin?"

"Begin? Begin what?"

She looked quizzical.

"My apprenticeship of course."

"MISS GRANGER!" Snape bellowed at her. "Have you heard NOTHING that I have said?"

"On the contrary, sir. I've listened very carefully to everything that you've said." She was remarkably unmoved by his shouting, he thought. _Damn Gryffindors and their courage_. "You said that you could not refuse someone of my talents the opportunity. You also said I would be a fool to take it but I think I can live with that if it's all the same to you, Professor."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for impersonating a teacher and for such audacity, Miss Granger!" He snarled.

Hermione Granger's expression became aggrieved.

"That's unfair!" She protested.

"It is not for you to say what is fair and what is not! You will present yourself to me, in the correct attire for a potions apprentice, at the door to this office, at 9 o'clock in the morning on the first of August. If you are so much as one minute late your apprenticeship will become null and void." His voice had dropped to an angry hiss. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir." She was struggling not to smile, he saw with a further surge of annoyance. _Little chit_, he thought as she quickly covered her upturned mouth with her hand.

"Good. Now get out before you lose your house any more points."

"Yes Professor."

She whirled to the office door, he caught the very edge of her smile as her face turned away from him, and then she was gone and the door was closing quietly behind her.

He stared at the space in the room where she had been for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Harry Potter, am making no money from this and no infringement is intended.

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Chapter 2: Conflict 

_Even the best of friends face conflicts, but that needn't mean the end of the relationship_ – Anon.

Hermione hugged herself with unexpected happiness as she fled from Snape's dungeon office. She had expected, despite her thorough research and preparation, a flat-out refusal to her request. The conversation had taken a slightly surreal turn, it was true, and he had given her a decidedly backhanded compliment in saying that he couldn't refuse her, but the fact remained that however unwillingly, he was going to take her on as his apprentice.

Emerging at the top of the steps and stepping into the entrance hall, Hermione briefly appraised the 4 house hourglasses set into the wall, and satisfied that Gryffindor still led the race for the House Cup she continued on her way, crossing through the rectangle of late afternoon sun that shone brightly through the open double door at the far end of the hall. The hall itself was deserted of students; it was halfway between dinner and curfew and judging by the far away voices carried to her on the grass-scented breeze, most were outside enjoying the sunshine.

The summer term of Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts was coming to an end.

Her NEWTS had been completed almost a week ago, and less than a week remained before she would travel home on the Hogwarts express along with the rest of the school. The thought of returning less than a month later pleased her enormously, because whilst not her true home it was certainly her spiritual one. It was within the halls and rooms and dorms of this magnificent castle that she really belonged; she had grown into a powerful and resourceful young witch, optimistic about her future, although not half an hour ago she had been sure that a denial of a Hogwarts-based apprenticeship would be sending her to some far flung corner of Europe. She did not relish the prospect of four years with Snape, but rather the opportunity he had afforded her.

Walking from the entrance hall to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione encountered no one and her greeting to the portrait and the password ("Toothflossing Stringmints!") was decidedly high-spirited.

Stepping through the portrait hole, she stepped smartly sideways and had almost reached the door leading up to the dormitories when a loud voice from the far side of the room demanded her attention.

"Oi Hermione! Over here!"

Ron Weasley was waving enthusiastically at her as if his voice was not noticeable enough, and Hermione reluctantly turned away from the door and crossed the common room to where Ron and Harry were settled in armchairs in front of a flung open window, a chess set on the table between them. She examined her two friends' faces carefully, relieved to see that they looked relaxed and happy despite, in Harry's case, the fact that he still wore a bandage on his wrist and a square of gauze over his scar.

The battle with Voldemort had been won less than six weeks previously, and although her own wounds had healed quickly and she bore no sign of any injury, Harry had been slower to mend. Madame Pomfrey had said that it was perfectly normal considering the seriousness of some of his injuries, and Harry himself had been in excellent spirits since his release from the Hospital wing. The wizarding world had seemed a much brighter place recently, and not without reason.

Flopping down into a third armchair, Hermione grinned at her friends.

"Hi Ron, hi Harry," she said casually, watching as Ron's almost serene expression rearranged itself into one of suspicion.

"Where have you been? And what are you so happy about?" he asked in what he thought was a casual voice, but Hermione knew better.

"Snape's office," she lifted a shoulder in a shrug but was inwardly wincing.

"Urgh, that's not something to be happy about, Hermione," Harry interjected with a smile. "What did he want you for? House points or detention?"

"Neither." Hermione was prim; and decided not to tell them about the small matter of the 20 points that Snape had deducted. "I went to ask him about a potions apprenticeship."

It was unfortunate that the other occupants of the room all chose that particular moment to fall silent, and Hermione abruptly found herself on the receiving end of several disbelieving stares, which she returned with a defiant look of her own. Turning back to Ron and Harry, she saw that both looked rather shocked and dismayed; Ron had gone very red in the face and it clashed horribly with his bright red hair.

"Are you _insane_, Hermione? Why the bloody hell would you want to do that?" He blurted, and seeing Harry nodding along with him, Hermione's good spirits evaporated. It was true that Snape had been horrible to all three of them in the past, more than horrible if you were Harry, but he had been invaluable in the fight against Voldemort and Hermione had hoped that her friends would have softened in their attitude towards him. This did not appear to be the case. She opened her mouth to reply, but Ron continued his furious tirade.

"Four years…_four more years_ with _Snape_? You must be off your rocker!"

Watching Harry trying unsuccessfully not to smile at this made Hermione furious.

"I am _not _'off my rocker', Ron!" She told him shrilly. "How dare you insult me like that? Since when did I need your say so about my career choices?"

Ron looked sulky, and pressed his chin down into his chest, staring holes in the rug beneath his feet. He said nothing.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry spoke quietly. "We all hate Snape, and Ron does have a point. I'm looking forward to having nothing more to do with him when I leave here. It just seems…mad that you'd choose to stay here and work for him."

"The greasy bat," Ron muttered.

"But you did only ask, right Hermione? He didn't say yes or anything?" Harry leaned towards her, and behind his glasses she could see that his green eyes were intent. She hesitated.

"He agreed, actually," she said quietly. "I'm sorry!" Their faces were a picture; at any other time she might have found it funny. "I was really surprised too, honestly!"

There was a strained silence, during which they all avoided looking at each other.

"See, Hermione, the thing is…we thought you wanted to be an auror, like us," Harry said lamely. "I never knew that you wanted…potions…with _Snape_…"

"I never said I wanted to be an auror though, did I? Please understand: if I want to be an experimental potions brewer then I have to do this. The Ministry won't even let me through the door without a letter of recommendation from a Potions Master!"

"Why Snape, though?" Harry persisted, but gently.

Ron was breathing heavily through his nose, and it made an irritating whistling noise. Hermione sat on her hands and fought down the urge to physically slap him.

"Harry, whatever you might think about him, he's one of the best at what he does. I owe it to myself to learn from the best, and what better place to do it than here?"

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry shook his head. "He's going to turn you into his potions _slave_…"

"Oh don't be silly," Hermione scoffed. "There are rules about apprenticeships, he can't just make me do whatever he wants!"

"You say that _now_!" Ron suddenly blurted. "But wait until he makes you disembowel a barrel full of horned toads, or clean all of the classroom cauldrons _without magic_!"

Hermione laughed.

"Oh Ron! I'm not a child any more! Snape doesn't frighten me, and besides, why would he make me do those things when there are always plenty of cauldron-melting first years that he can give detention to?"

"Humph," said Ron.

"I'm never going to be an even halfway decent auror, Ron," Hermione told him gently. "I think you know that."

"How d'you know that, if you're not even going to try?" Ron rose to his feet and stared down at her from a gangly height.

"Ron…"

"Forget it, Hermione. Just forget it." He turned and walked away, disappearing through the portrait hole as Hermione watched him open-mouthed. She turned to Harry, whose expression was rueful.

"We can't be joined at the hip forever," she was cross again and it showed. "He doesn't stop to think about what I want, my dreams, my ambitions…"

"But Ron thinks you're treading on his dreams to get to yours!" Harry explained. "I don't agree with what you're doing, Hermione, and Snape is the last person that I'd want to spend any amount of time with, but I understand that you have to make your own choices…and even your own mistakes. Ron doesn't."

Hermione knew exactly what he meant. A short-lived relationship with Ron at the beginning of the school year had been a fraught, argument filled disaster and Hermione had been very relieved when they had mutually decided to 'just be friends' again. Ron, however, had recently and none too subtly suggested that they give things another go and Hermione's continued resistance to the idea was causing some very obvious tension between them.

"I can't be with him, Harry. Not in the way that he wants," she muttered. "I just can't."

"I know, Hermione." Harry had silently risen to his feet, displaying his admirable quidditch reflexes in the process. "I'd better go and make sure that he's all right, ok?"

"Fine," Hermione said faintly. "I'm sorry Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"Don't be. Ron'll get over it. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes for the next few years, though."

And with that ominous warning, Harry turned and ambled after Ron.

Hermione sighed. Her decision to become an apprentice, and Snape's agreement to it, seemed as though it was going to be problematic to them all.

To be continued...

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A/N: I can't seem to write Ron or (especially) Harry particularly well no matter how hard I try! Never mind – they're only peripheral to the story from here on in. 

'Off your rocker' is an English idiom. It simply means 'mad' or 'crazy'.

I'm probably going to rotate the perspective between Hermione and Severus chapter by chapter as it keeps everything fresh and is certainly more interesting for me to write!

Thanks so much for all the very kind reviews. The meaning of the title of this story will become clearer in due course, and it's _very_ important to the story as a whole!


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Harry Potter, am making no money from this and no infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter 3: New Beginnings_Coming together is a beginning. Keeping together is progress. Working together is success_ – Henry Ford. 

Hermione Granger presented herself at the door to Severus Snape's office at 8.58am on the first of August, and he made her wait there until precisely 9am before throwing open the door and scrutinizing the young woman before him without so much as a single word. If the raking of his dark eyes across her person unsettled her, she did not show it.

She was wearing the correct robes, he noted sourly. Dark grey and nondescript, they covered her slim form completely from her shoulders to her feet, their only point of interest being the dark red cauldron embroidered on the upper left hand side – the mark of a potions apprentice. Her impossible hair had been scraped into a tight bun and her skin was pink with a slightly scrubbed appearance. Judging by the solemn expression on her face she had hitherto tried very hard to meet all of Snape's requirements, but instead of feeling satisfaction he felt the beginnings of a slow burning and irrational irritation that would make Miss Granger's induction more difficult than it was already going to be.

"Miss Granger." His tone was short. "Your appearance at least is…satisfactory." He gestured to the chair before his desk. "Sit down."

She entered his office cautiously and closed the door behind her before settling herself on the edge of the proffered chair. Seated behind his desk, Snape frowned at her.

"Are your quarters adequate?" He enquired.

"Quite, sir," Hermione nodded, looking slightly pleased. Snape's mood darkened further. Dumbledore had insisted upon personally organising the provision of her rooms, and although he had not cared to enquire where she had been placed, he suspected that her destination would have been the far side of the dungeons – rooms with windows no less because the precipice that Hogwarts was built upon fell away quite sharply on that side but was higher on the other, which was coincidentally the side where Snape's office, classroom and quarters could be located.

"Are they nearby?" He managed to spit out.

"Yes, sir," she nodded again. "On the opposite side of the dungeons…with windows."

"I did not request a description, Miss Granger!" Snape barked at her. She immediately coloured.

"No, sir. I'm sorry."

"Get out your quill, and some parchment. This morning I shall go over the requirements of your apprenticeship, after which I shall require your wand oath."

"My wand oath?" She looked surprised.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Your wand oath. An apprenticeship is not something to be taken lightly, as you should well know. You will be magically bound over to complete it…" He observed her expression, and sensed her doubt. "Is there a problem, Miss Granger? Because if you are not sure…"

"No." She said firmly. "I'm sure, Professor. That's fine." With a minimum amount of fuss, she extracted parchment and a quill from her bag.

"I'm so glad," Snape muttered. "Now, if you are ready?"

"Yes, sir."

Leaning back in his chair, Snape addressed the ceiling, telling it all of the requirements and specifications for Miss Granger's apprenticeship.

"You will be apprenticed to myself for four years, and during that time it is expected that you will do anything that I reasonably ask of you. This may include, but is not limited to: making and bottling potions for the hospital wing, assisting me in my classroom, grading papers, maintaining the supply cupboards for both the students and myself, harvesting ingredients when necessary and the occasional brewing of certain restricted potions when requested by the Ministry of Magic."

He waited until the scratching of her quill had ceased before looking over and speaking to her directly.

"In return, I will grant you access to the finer points of potions brewing and also to my personal and not inconsiderable library. I shall personally tutor you four evenings a week and on a Saturday; the headmaster has insisted that you have one night free to pursue whatever you wish in addition to Sundays, which will remain your own free time for the duration of the apprenticeship."

She diligently wrote down everything that he said, lifting her head to look at him when he paused.

"You will have unrestricted access to my private laboratory, which I will show to you in due course, and you will be paid something that the headmaster defines as 'the going rate' for whatever potions that you produce for either Madame Pomfrey or the Ministry. This is of course, providing that they meet the required standards." He smiled unpleasantly. "Those standards will be judged by myself."

"Yes, Professor." She glanced at him again, this time catching his eye and holding his gaze. For a moment, they stared at each other in confusion.

"Do you have a question, Miss Granger?" Snape enquired.

"I…that is…no, sir." She looked away.

"So you are clear on what is expected from you and what you will receive?"

"Yes."

"Then read back your notes to me."

She did so, and they were impressively concise.

"Adequate, Miss Granger," Snape had no intention of telling her so. "I also suspect that you will make a decent apprentice."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione's smile was faint.

"You already know my standards, and you know of my attitude towards failure. Do not disappoint me, Miss Granger," he warned. "You would not like the consequences."

"I understand, sir. Thank you…for giving me this opportunity. I won't let you down."

Snape snickered, without any discernible humour.

"That remains to be seen," he said. She seemed to appraise him for a moment, and then she stuck out her hand.

Snape looked at the proffered hand as though she were perhaps the carrier of some form of highly contagious disease.

"Put it away, Miss Granger," he told her wearily.

She merely shook her head and, apparently unperturbed, extended her hand halfway across the desk.

"No, Professor," she said patiently. "I just think we should shake on it…our agreement, that is."

With barely concealed impatience at Miss Granger and her stupid muggle customs, Snape reached over and grasped her small hand in his somewhat larger one and shook it firmly. He experienced the brief sensation of her warm, slightly dry palm against his own and then he released her hand, half expecting her to wipe it on her robes at the first opportunity, but she merely placed it back in her lap.

"Are you satisfied, Miss Granger?" He asked. She nodded, and Snape rose smoothly to his feet, moving around his desk with barely a rustle of robes. "Follow me, then. I will show you the private lab and then I will have your oath."

"Yes, sir," she demurred, and stood up next to him. Snape's office was not sizeable; there was little space for two people to pass, and so they stood facing each other for a bemused moment, and he only had enough time to register that she barely reached his shoulder in height before she took a small step to one side so that he could pass her without having to come into contact with any part of her.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he sneered at her, making his thanks sound more like an insult, and accordingly her eyes flicked up to his as if to verify the statement. He returned her stare with a flinty one of his own, and was surprised to see her mouth quirk up at the corners slightly. "Is something amusing you?" He enquired in a dangerously soft voice.

"No." She turned her face away from his.

"No _what_?"

"No, _sir_."

"I'm very glad to hear it, Miss Granger, and I warn you now…" she was still staring resolutely at his office door, "_not_ to get on the wrong side of me. Four years…is a very long time."

She turned once more to face him, and this time her face was difficult to read. Her short nod, however, was terse.

"Well then, now that we understand each other…" He threw open the door and strode out into the corridor without looking back to see if she was following. "This way, Miss Granger."

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A/N: Boring chapter, I know, but it sets some ground rules for later on…sort of. The perspective will switch to Hermione again in the next chapter.

Thanks so much for all of the very kind comments in the reviews – I really appreciate them and they encourage me to write more.


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